


Checking For Ticks (or Wildflowers In The Moonlight)

by linvro21



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Hand Jobs, Inspired by Music, J2, M/M, Romance, Schmoop, Tattoos, Texas, moles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:03:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linvro21/pseuds/linvro21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is trying to reconnect with his Texan roots. He finds someone he thought he'd lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Checking For Ticks (or Wildflowers In The Moonlight)

**Author's Note:**

> Fic based on the Brad Paisley song '[Ticks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3tiPndMqxLQ).

Jensen gets out of his car and walks up to the Broken Spoke; the flashy orange neon sign makes sure no mistake is possible. He's ready to reconnect with his Texan roots tonight, and this saloon came highly recommended by Danneel for doing so. So far, he sees all the signs that remind him of every country bar he ever visited in his youth. Not that he's old now, just old enough to wanna reminisce, and possibly find some fine ass in the process.

He walks up the three steps to the large porch with the fence made out of cartwheels.

An old guy wearing a heavily sequined yellow shirt and a white cowboy hat, exits the bar and holds the door open for him. He tips his hat and says “Howdy pretty”.

Well, his friend seems to be right about the 'nature' of this bar in any case.

 

He walks into the saloon and is dumbstruck by the exuberant ornamentation: the walls and ceiling are filled brim to bottom with baseball caps, license plates, dear heads, more flashy neon signs for famous beer brands, postcards and the likes.

The seedy decoration is almost enough to make him want to turn around and hit the sports bar he passed on the way instead. The bar itself is built out of ancient looking planks, supported by equally old barrels, and reminds Jensen of some cowboy movie he once watched. The friendly atmosphere tips the scale for him to give this place a go.

He chooses to sit down at a small table in the corner, near the jukebox, so he can eye the place at his leisure. The saloon is fairly well visited, some twenty five men are drinking, talking and dancing.

 

Jensen's eye is caught by one of the men sitting at the bar, or rather by his broad back. The tall muscled man is clad in a tight black t-shirt that's a bit too short. His jeans are riding low, and part of a tattoo on his lower back is showing. Jensen tries to make out what it is without staring too obviously, until his pleasant view is blocked.

“Hello there cowboy. My name is Brock. What can I get you?”

Jensen looks up to see a young guy wearing a short black apron over his cowboy costume. So, he's a waiter then; Jensen's not being hit on just yet. “I'll have a beer, anything you've got on tap would be nice.”

The waiter almost bounces off in his pink cowboy boots.

 

The guy is laughing really loud now. Doing so, he tips his head back, making his longish brown hair flip trough the air – in slow motion it seems – like a tacky shampoo commercial: a sort of familiar look. It's a kind of familiar laugh too.

Jensen gets up from his table and walks over to the bar. On the way over he picks up his beer from the serving tray, without taking his gaze off the tattooed guy. The waiter makes a little disappointed sound behind him.

When he gets closer he can see the partly visible tattoo on the exposed skin: it's a pink and purple colored butterfly – he did not see that one coming – accompanied by several little moles.

 

“J.T.?” Jensen asks tentatively.

The guy turns around with his beer bottle still clung to his lips. When he sees Jensen he sprays his beer in a nice little fountain straight onto Jensen's favorite Zeppelin shirt. “O shit, sorry,” he says, and then his face lights up in a million dollar smile. “J.R.?”

So Jensen is right. It definitely is him. They lived next door to each other for three years when they were teenagers.

“I go by Jared nowadays,” J.T. says while he stands up – and keeps standing up – to wrap Jensen in a tight hug.

It feels great. His best friend from long ago, has grown into a well muscled man. Jensen hugs him back. After some time, he comes to his senses and lets go. “Please call me Jensen, only my mother calls me J.R. anymore. Come sit with me?” Jensen asks.

 

They sit and talk about the good old days. Jensen says he recognized Jared by his hair. It made him look even longer and thinner then. Now it frames his strong face just right, curling some near his long strong neck, bringing softness to grown up features. The smile is still the same as well; bright, dimpled and contagious.

Jared says he would know those eyes anywhere.

 

Jensen would like to explore the body that's lurking underneath those clothes. Jared's adult body now; see how it has changed... After some time Jensen notices that Jared isn't talking anymore. He's just looking at Jensen and smiling softly. Jared's arm is resting on the table, holding his beer. Jensen gathers up all his courage and puts his hand on top of Jared's.

“Come take a drive with me?”

 

The summer evening is hot and humid. A thunderstorm passed over hours ago, and the air is still filled with the smell of rain. They get in Jensen's car, and it feels strange and familiar all at once, having Jared sitting next to him.

“So, where are you taking me?” Jared asks.

Jensen isn't quite sure yet. Away from this tacky saloon, is his first instinct. Somewhere quiet, his second idea. “Wanna tell me about the butterfly?” he asks instead.

“I was drunk, and it was a bet. After a while, it kinda grew on me.”

 

They drive over quiet moonlit country roads. The smell of rain is wafting in through the open windows, it triggers memories of their secret nightly escapades in Josh's truck.

Jensen remembers sneaking out of his bedroom and taking the keys from the kitchen, calling Jared on his mobile and pushing his brother's car down the hill together. The excitement of driving at night to someplace quiet; away from exams, loud friends and busy families.

The wind keeps fanning hair in Jared's face. Jensen likes the way he pushes it out of his eyes... those hands.

The man who once was this boy he was secretly in love with. The boy he showed his favorite places when he'd just moved into town; the little frog filled lake near the Harris farm, the woods where he used to hunt with his dad, the corn field that abruptly opened up into a meadow filled with wildflowers...

 

Jensen stops the car by the side of the road.

“What?” says Jared with an amused smile on his lips.

Jensen looks to the field on their left. Jared's smile widens; he understands.

They get out of the car and walk into the field together. Jensen takes Jared's hand in his again and dares to take a look at his beautiful face: still smiling softly, thank god. The wildflowers come up to their knees, mostly blue and some yellow, the colors barely recognizable under the moonlight. They walk further into the field.

Jared squeezes Jensen's hand.

“Here?” Jensen asks, Jared just nods. They stop and let themselves drop backwards into the grass. They're completely surrounded by the grass and flowers now, the only place to see is up to the night's sky.

The dampness of the plants and the soil starts to soak into their clothes, but it's OK, because it's still warm out. Holding hands and laying here together, it's easy to just forget the world, to ease back into what once was.

Jared's thumb caresses Jensen's hand, it brings him back to the here and now. It brings him back to his earlier thoughts of exploring the body belonging to his best friend.

 

Jensen props himself up on his elbow. With his free hand he strokes a strand of hair from Jared's face: still smiling, but with a different look in his eyes. It's difficult to see in the sparse light of the moon, but they seem filled with intent. Would he dare to...? Jensen bows over Jared's face and kisses those still smiling lips softly.

He has wondered for over ten years what it would feel like to kiss J.T. Only he's not J.T. anymore, and the kiss deepens into more than a fleeting teenage kiss; it progresses into an exploration of Jared's lips and mouth. Jensen can feel the intent now, he saw earlier in Jared's eyes, and it fills him with hope and joy and promise.

 

He moves closer to Jared's body; no more flowers to separate them. Jared looks up at him filled with expectation, he nods and smiles, still. Jensen can't stop smiling either and for a second it makes him feel like a huge sap.

It makes him think of Danneel and her mockery of the romantic he is at heart, and how he kept believing in love at first sight. All those years ago this started out for him as just that. Back when Jared was only sixteen and Jensen felt too old and way too cool to admit it; to being in love with this kid. Not too strong a word, just not the right time then. Now, it seems it might be.

 

Jensen pushes Jared's too small shirt up slowly, revealing beautiful muscles and light skin, speckled with a mole here and there. He touches one of them gently with his finger, small strokes over the little dark spot. No hurry, they've got time now.

“Looking for ticks?” Jared asks with a smile, still.

The smile is in the corners of his eyes, his cheeks, his mouth, even in the muscles of his neck. Jensen places a small kiss there, and another one a bit lower, one on a newly discovered little mole, until he reaches the t-shirt's collar. He pushes the shirt further up his chest, and Jared moves his shoulders to help. And then Jared looks even more beautiful, it takes Jensen's breath away for a moment. How can this be real; them laying here together after all these years?

 

He stares into Jared's eyes while he strokes the skin around the navel, caressing the soft little hairs below. Small goosebumps appear on Jared's skin. They seem to spread over through Jensen's finger up to his whole body. It's getting colder, Jensen thinks.

”You're beautiful,” he says instead.

Jared places one of his large hands gently in Jensen's neck and tugs his face closer to his own. He puts his other hand on Jensen's lower back, and pulls his body closer. It feels warm and right. Jared shoves Jensen's shirt off over his head. Their lips touch again. Bare warm skin touching, and Jensen looses himself in the moment; in the cold and damp of the night and the field, in the warmth and wetness of their body's and the kiss.

He runs his fingers through the long brown hair; it looks golden in the moonlight.

 

Then they become more frantic with the kissing and touching. The slumbering feel from before turns into a hunt for closeness, belonging and friction.

He stops, and Jensen asks with his eyes. Jared answers with a soft moan.

Jensen slides his hand between their body's and touches, and rubs the bulge in Jared's jeans. It is getting close to every dream he ever had of this moment. His hand wanders up to the well trained chest, to hardened nipples. Jared pushes up into him, the pressure increases. Jared's breathing becomes more hurried, his movements more purposeful, until he comes with a long soft grunt.

He opens his eyes and kisses Jensen again.

Then he pushes Jensen softly off his body, slightly to his side. He fiddles with Jensen button and fly. Jensen shivers from the loss of body heat, and the understanding of Jared's intent. Jared slips his hand into the jeans and wraps his hand around Jensen's dick; friction again and warmth very close now. Jared moves his hand up and down, three times, four and Jensen feels his orgasm build. With a blown out 'oh' he comes as well. Jared's moves his head closer and softly bites his lip.

“Come to my place?” he asks.


End file.
